Chapter 90

‘I didn’t expect this at all.’

Was it always supposed to be this way?

Or perhaps, due to some butterfly effect Fernan didn’t know about, had the future changed?

There was no mention of this in the book of prophecies, which was a bit problematic.

Though, in truth, for Aint and his growth, there was nothing wrong with it.

‘This changed because of my actions.’

Originally, Aint was supposed to face the monsters and a Corruptor on the battlefield.

There he would fight to the death, gain experience, and by defeating a real Corruptor, he would earn fame.

From that point on, he would begin to be recognized as a “hero” and “heir to the First Emperor.”

In that process, the desert clans had nothing to do with it.

But by Fernan saving the clans, the story took another path. Those who were meant to die as sacrifices lived to witness Aint’s feats.

‘I hope this doesn’t change the future too much…’

The greatest value of having the book of prophecies was knowing what was coming and acting accordingly.

That’s why, except for matters related to his bond with Luina, Fernan had tried not to alter the core plot too much.

‘I can’t undo what’s happened now. The only thing left is to be grateful that at least it turned out positively…’

“…Are you asleep?”

He sensed a presence beside him and opened his eyes.

“What did you say?”

“I asked why you had your eyes closed.”

It was Luina. She was offering him a piece of roasted meat. Despite the festive atmosphere, her expression hadn’t changed a bit.

“Just thinking for a moment. Don’t you drink?”

“Alcohol makes you lower your guard.”

“It’s a party.”

Fernan took a glass a nomad offered and brought it close to her.

“…I don’t like bitterness.”

“Yes, it’s a strong liquor.”

What the desert warriors drank was moonshine.

It was made by fermenting camel’s milk and then distilling that beverage.

Finally, they aged it in facilities dug into the sand.

‘With such dry skies, distilling here is almost like throwing money into the sand.’

For the clans, it wasn’t a business; they did it simply because they wanted something strong to drink.

“But isn’t there also a fermented version?”

“I can’t stand the taste…”

Fermented camel milk was notorious for its peculiar aroma, equally loved and hated.

Fernan took out chocolate from his subspace and squeezed it in his hand. As it melted, it released a fresh forest-like aroma. He dropped it into the glass.

“It’ll taste better this way.”

“…”

Luina glanced at him sideways.

“I washed my hands.”

“That’s not it, it’s just… that chocolate, is it from Fridian?”

“Chocolate from the bark of the World Tree.”

“And why waste something so valuable on liquor?”

“Then, are you not going to drink it?”

“…I will, so the chocolate doesn’t go to waste.”

She took a sip.

The oak aroma of the aged moonshine blended with the forest fragrance of the chocolate.

The initial bitterness softened into sweetness, surprisingly pleasant.

“…It’s good.”

“The chocolate costs more than the drink.”

“…Then I came out ahead.”

“Ahead?”

“It wasn’t mine, but in exchange for drinking something unpleasant, I tasted excellent chocolate.”

“…You’re starting to talk like a merchant.”

“I guess after spending so much time with one, some of it rubbed off.”

Fernan widened his eyes — he hadn’t expected to hear that from her. And, honestly, it didn’t sound bad.

Then—

Waaaah—

Beri…!

A commotion rose in the distance. He tried to see what was going on, but the crowd blocked his view.

“What could it be?”

“A challenge, maybe?”

Suddenly, a nomad came flying out of the crowd, injured, and a familiar voice shouted from behind.

“Next!”

“A duel.”

“Yes, it’s a duel.”

“Verian?”

“It’s Verian.”

Fernan and Luina looked at each other.

A brief silence, and Luina let out her aura, dispelling any trace of intoxication.

“This will be interesting. I’ve always wanted to test the strength of those who, even without mana, possess such powerful bodies.”

Without waiting for a reply, she headed toward the arena.

— Kkung? Kkhkhkh!

Wooden had returned to Fernan and was laughing, holding his belly.

“She rejected me? Don’t be ridiculous.”

There was never such a relationship. Fernan gave him a light tap on the head.

— Kkiiing!

Wooden let out an exaggerated squeal.

‘With this… the desert clans now become part of Aint’s power.’

How many would there be in total?

***

“How vulgar.”

The desert men were all filthy. The liquor was terrible, and during their party all they did was eat meat, drink, and punch each other under the name of a “sacred duel.”

“Is the celebration not to your liking?”

“Of course not.”

To Ludger, it was a barbaric display. He wanted to show them the true meaning of a festival.

‘No wonder the Empire abandoned them. They’ll never stop being savages like this.’

Though the real reason for his anger was something else—that despite his significant contribution in battle, the clans only hailed Aint.

‘Holy light? Nonsense.’

They worshipped him, as if he had recovered the lost art of Armian’s swordsmanship. If that were true, it was extremely serious.

In a peaceful era, it wouldn’t matter, but with the Corruptors unleashed, it seemed like destiny was clearing the path for Aint Armian.

“Are you alright, Your Highness?”

Almon’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“…I’m fine.”

“I was worried you might have been hurt fighting the Corruptor.”

“I only used magic once, there was no reason for injuries.”

Though in truth, he had suffered internal damage and exhaustion, potions had stabilized him.

“I want to ask you something, Almon.”

“Anything, Your Highness.”

“What did you think of the Corruptor?”

“In what sense?”

“In terms of strength.”

Almon hesitated. The Corruptor was terrifying. Each clash shook him to his core; he barely held on with his protective aura.

Only thanks to Aint weakening it, Ludger slowing it down, and everyone attacking together were they able to win.

“It was a monstrous being.”

“And how many more do you think there are like him?”

“Many, no doubt. No one could count them.”

“Exactly.”

“Are you worried about Aint Armian?”

“Isn’t it suspicious? Just as the Corruptors awaken, Aint suddenly seems to have recovered Armian’s secret sword technique.”

It was true, though it didn’t necessarily mean Aint controlled them. Probably a coincidence.

“Yes, coincidence…”

But coincidence or not, it benefited him. And most would call that luck.

“I won’t let Aint or Armian enjoy that luck.”

Because that didn’t suit Schwaben.

“We must prove it.”

“That others can defeat demons as well?”

“Yes. That we don’t need Armian. That we can do it without him.”

A thousand years had passed since the First Emperor defeated King Colomo and founded the Empire.

In that time, humanity had grown stronger—there were now ten Royal Knights and ten Archmages.

The Electors and the Empire were more powerful than ever.

There was no longer any need to depend on Armian.

“But, Your Highness, you said you weren’t interested in the throne.”

Ludger nodded.

“My brother is more suitable than I. He deserves to be emperor.”

It wasn’t lack of ambition—it was acceptance.

Precisely because of that, he couldn’t allow Schwaben to lose the crown.

“When this mission ends, I’ll go to the capital.”

His cold gaze settled on Aint, who was mingling with the nomads.

***

“So Bairan is dead?”

In a laboratory full of instruments and testing materials.

Upon the Shadow’s report, the man at the desk reviewing documents let out a disbelieving chuckle.

“No, sir. Not dead—he was captured.”

“Ah… so it’s the same. Or maybe worse, for being a fool? Did they discover his objective?”

“No, sir.”

“Could you explain it in detail?”

“You know that some students from the Academy went on deployment. Among them was Aint Armian.”

“And blinded by glory, he disobeyed my order to stay put.”

Too stupid.

“Did he really think that, no matter how great his achievement, I’d use someone who dares disobey me? What does he carry that thing on his shoulders for, if not to think?”

Such short-sightedness and pettiness.

“Tell me what happened.”

“He planned to gather sacrifices, summon monsters, and then kill Aint Armian.”

“Why did he fail?”

“While attacking desert clans for sacrifices, he fell into a trap set by Altrierc.”

“A trap?”

“Yes. They coordinated with a clan and waited for Bairan to appear.”

“How did they know about Bairan’s plan?”

“That…”

The Shadow shut his mouth. He didn’t know the exact background either.

“Reporting without knowing the details is disappointing.”

“F-forgive me!”

“Lower your voice.”

“Y-yes…”

“What level was the trap?”

“The Order of Iron Knights and the Order of Wild Blood, plus five hundred elite soldiers. And most importantly—all the deployed Academy students were there.”

“So Aint Armian as well.”

The man understood why Bairan couldn’t escape.

A thousand years had passed and they still couldn’t overcome Armian’s power. Without Aint, maybe he would’ve escaped.

“Bairan was captured and taken away… and the others?”

“They returned to Altrierc’s wall.”

“…Activate Bairan’s self-destruction. A fool like that isn’t worth rescuing.”

“Yes, I will.”

Though the report ended, the man stayed silent. Only the scritch-scratch of his pen sliding over paper could be heard.

After a while, flipping pages, he asked.

“And the Pasa Bell?”

“The plan was slightly delayed, but there were no major setbacks.”

“In fact, this is an opportunity. While their attention is on that worm, you handle the finishing blow.”

“Th-thank you!”

“Don’t disappoint me like that insect.”

“I’ll do my best!”

The Shadow bowed his head to the floor.

“You may leave.”

At his command, the Shadow vanished. His eyes remained fixed on the documents he’d been writing.

“Soon.”

The end was in sight. Almost.

Just then, someone opened the lab door.

“Aaron! Locked in here again? If Professor Rosalia isn’t around, take a break. Didn’t she say she was on vacation?”

“Now that I’m near the end of the research, my hands itch.”

Aaron gave a faint smile.

“You know other professors are keeping an eye on you because of that attitude, right?”

“I prefer to stay under Professor Rosalia.”

“Of course you do…”

“So, why’d you come?”

“To drag you out to eat. You haven’t eaten yet, have you? It’s already one o’clock.”

“Is it that late?”

Aaron got ready to leave.

“Are you taking that book again? Leave it for once!”

“A mage should always have their grimoire.”

With a gentle smile, Aaron left the laboratory with the other assistant.